Destiny is tiring
by Hisa-Ai
Summary: Talk of destiny is tiring, and Arthur thinks it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to never hear that word ever again. He also knows he isn't quite that lucky, but God, he can always hope. Or at least, maybe, somehow talk Merlin into one night without the word being present.


**This was inspired, once again, by the song _1965_ by Zella Day, but this time the lines responsible for _all this_ were _:_**

 _Can we go back to the world we had  
With a love so sweet it makes me sad,_

 **And,**

 _I felt forever when I laid upon your chest._

 **Disclaimer:** I still don't own a damn thing, bros.

* * *

 _Destiny is tiring_

* * *

*.*.*.*.*

Talk of destiny is _tiring_ , Arthur thinks, _especially_ since all he and Merlin have done, since he has returned by whatever magic or miracle might be responsible for it, is talk about it. They have talked about and Camelot, and they have talked about destiny, and nothing else. He has been back for _weeks_ now, and that has been _all_ they have talked about over meals, and tea, and walks around to show Arthur glimpses and pieces of this new time, and before they fall asleep at night.

That is _all_ they have talked about, and it is tiring. So, _so_ tiring.

He isn't sure what he would rather talk about truly, perhaps nothing at all. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, really, to just lay with Merlin in silence for a night or two, to tangle together in bed and simply _be together_. It wouldn't be the worst thing to _not_ hear the word _destiny_ ever again either, but Arthur knows he is not going to be quite _that_ lucky, so he will settle for one night of silence. Just one.

When he and Merlin finally pile into bed after a day of Merlin showing him too little and telling him more than Arthur thinks he can _realistically_ grasp all at once, Merlin picks up the conversation he first started over dinner, words that make Arthur's bones ache and sigh for sleep and quiet. But every bit of him knows that he will get neither of those while Merlin is talking about whatever it is he is talking about. Arthur has stopped listening to what is being said, really, so there is little point for Merlin to carry on as he is anyway.

"Merlin, love?" he sighs, looks over at Merlin at last.

Merlin's words fall off, hang off his lips instead, and he gives Arthur a wide-eyed prodding, questioning look.

"Do you think," he begins slowly, wondering how Merlin will take what he wants to say and _how_ he should say it anyway. He doesn't want to upset Merlin or for him to think that Arthur doesn't appreciate everything he has been telling and teaching him as of late, but God does he need just _one_ night without hearing about destiny and a dragon that he _thought_ he'd killed more than a lifetime ago, but that time had apparently taken instead, and words he passed on to Merlin in a cave Arthur scarcely remembers anymore.

It is nice to have lies cleared up, of course, but Merlin is telling him _too_ much _too_ soon.

"Do you think we could, maybe, just for tonight, just… cuddle? Like when we were back in Camelot and I couldn't sleep, and we would just… cuddle until I could? And you would kiss my forehead and… we haven't _really_ done much of either of those since I came back," he says softly, leaning back against his pillows.

Now that he has said that, he knows it's truer than it needs to be. He has been back for _weeks_ , and though they sleep in the same bed, it has not been the same as it used to be. He can count on one hand the kisses he's received from Merlin, and his chest is aching without warning suddenly. He had thought this new world was okay, because he still has Merlin, but he wonders now, for the first time, if it _really_ is. Merlin isn't the same, isn't treating _Arthur_ the same, and it hurts now, and he would trade anything, would give anything, just to get Merlin to stop trying to explain everything to him and start trying to _be_ with him again.

He looks over to Merlin again, who is silent at last, and nodding slowly now that Arthur's gaze is back on him, something in his eyes that Arthur doesn't think he wants to see or read.

"Yeah, we can do that," he says softly, moves closer on the bed to Arthur with a small smile on his face that Arthur returns as he moves closer as well, moves his head to rest on Merlin's chest, and settles in comfortably under their blanket.

All too easily, Merlin's arm moves to tug Arthur impossibly closer against him, and the room is silent aside from their even breaths and the sound of Merlin pressing careful kisses against the top of Arthur's head occasionally.

For the first time since coming back, Arthur finally feels like everything is as fine as he wants it to be, and like he is finally home once again.

In the morning, Merlin will surely bring up that conversation, or a different one, again, but tonight, at least, there is silence, and comfort, and love, and no talk of destiny at all.

And Arthur doesn't think he can _possibly_ ask for more.

*.*.*.*.*


End file.
